Ford heard Kendall call out vaguely behind him, but he could barely make out what she said over the wind, rain, and thunder. Suddenly, there was a gust of wind behind him, urging him forward. It gave him the extra centimetres he needed to grab the quaffle. He clasped it into his right and brought it to him, hugging it next to his torso protectively. He looked up and saw the middle coming right at him, very quickly. To avoid clotheslining himself or slamming into a pole, he shot out his left hand, and grabbed the five o' clock position on the hoop, hooking him around through the it. He let go at the just the right moment and came shooting out through it onto the pitch, barely missing his keeper in the process. He kicked out the back of his broom, pitting his momentum against his broom's acceleration. He slowed to a stop and killed the broom's acceleration.
He stared in amazement for a fleeting moment at the hoop before returning his face to an impassive mask. The wind and rain pelted his face, he could barely see the silhouettes of the other players on the pitch through the tempest. "Are you alright, Kendall," he called over a thunder clap, sounding as if her response wouldn't have a difference at all.
